


No Place I'd Rather Be

by DawnieWrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Baby Fic, Family, Kid Fic, OT3, OT3 if you squint, chosen family, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnieWrites/pseuds/DawnieWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a HYDRA raid has some unsuspected results, Steve finds his life changed. A few years later, he makes another, equally life-changing discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by http://eatingcroutons.tumblr.com/post/101441152479/stuffimgoingtohellfor-thestuckynation-stucky
> 
> This was written in one sitting with no beta reader so be kind.

It’s months and months of searching, of following dead-end leads and faulty information before Steve finally listens to Sam and Natasha when they tell him that Bucky won’t be found until he’s well and ready to be. He’s tired of always being half a step behind, of showing up to find nothing but charred rubble and dead bodies. So he heads home; not to DC, but to Brooklyn. He declines Tony’s offer to have him move into what is now Avengers Tower permanently and instead finds a cozy two-bedroom apartment.

Steve helps with the Avengers and volunteers at the local VA office with Sam; he paints and lends his time to a few youth centers around the city teaching kids who were poor like he was. Natasha visits whenever she’s in town, and slowly his apartment feels less like a place he’s lived and more like a home. Sam goes back to DC for a few months before he moves back to Harlem, much to the joy of his mother.

Sam and Clint are both at Steve’s apartment, the season finale of _Dog Cops_ is on television and all three of them have beers in hand as they sit watching. Steve’s phone starts vibrating across the coffee table and he frowns, reaching forward to grab it while Clint reaches for the remote to pause the television.

“Rogers,” he answers, after checking the caller ID and reading _unknown number_.

“ _How fast can you get to Detroit?_ ” Natasha asks with no preamble.

“With or without Tony’s help?” Steve replies, standing up and abandoning his beer on the coffee table.

“ _Which way will get you here the fastest? I could use a little back-up on this one I think_.”

“With Tony’s help, probably less than an hour; HYDRA?” That has Sam and Clint sitting upright and paying attention.

“ _I think so_.”

“I’ll call Tony.”

“ _Call me back when you’re in the air_.”

~*~

Sam and Clint go with him to Detroit and they meet up with Natasha at the coordinates she sent him on the plane. It appears to be an abandoned automobile plant, of which there are plenty of in the city. She greets them all with a tight smile and quick hugs before getting down to business.

“If my intel is right –”

“Which it usually is,” Clint interrupts.

“There’s an active lab underneath that building,” Natasha informs them.

“Whose lab?” Sam asks.

“Probably HYDYRA; possibly AIM. But the intel says that since Killian is no longer in charge, AIM has been working more and more with what remains of HYDRA lately,” she explains, double-checking her belt to ensure she has enough extra clips.

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asks, tightening the strap on his helmet.

“I’m not sure of the floorplan, so Clint, Steve, and I will infiltrate and gather as much intel as possible; Sam, stay out here and cover the exit, since as far as I can tell there’s just the one,” Natasha tells them, handing out flash drives, “just plug them in and they’ll do all of the work.”

“Hostiles?” Clint asks

“Terminate with extreme prejudice. Be wary of civilians though,” she cautions, “I’m not sure exactly what kind of lab it is that they’re running down there, but there has been a steady increase in missing-person reports over the last few months.”

“Then let’s get moving.” Sam takes off for the highest vantage point that he can find as Natasha, Clint, and Steve make their way to the only visible door.

“How’s it look Sam?” Steve asks as they make their way inside the plant and downstairs.

“ _Streets look clear,_ ” he replies, “ _I’ll rotate keeping watch outside and patrolling the ground floor_.” Steve looks to Natasha, who nods sharply and gestures towards an obviously locked door.

“Retina scan,” she whispers, “they’re getting smarter about keeping us out.”

“Not smart enough,” Steve counters, holding out a small box Tony had finished preliminary tests on just last week. Natasha takes the box, a suspicious look on her face, but sticks it to the circuit box next to the door. Two minutes pass before the box beeps and a small puff of smoke emits from the circuit box and the door opens.

“Nice toy,” Natasha admires, pulling the box off the wall and sticking it in a pouch on her belt.

“Keep it, I’m sure Stark has plenty more,” Steve invites, leading the way through the door and down the hall. They make it through the first six rooms undetected, taking turns at the computers, before they finally stumble across an agent. He doesn’t even get his gun out of its holster before Natasha puts a bullet in his neck, hitting an artery.

“Keep moving,” she orders, stepping in front of the two men and taking a right at the fork in the hallway, ponytail swinging behind her. They find more agents after that, all of them wearing the HYDRA insignia on their chests, and all of them are dead or unconscious before they have a chance to fire their weapons or sound an alarm, which is why it surprises all of them when a klaxon starts blaring, red lights flashing in the halls. Natasha swears, picking up her pace.

“Someone must have found the first guy,” Clint guesses, “not that we were being careful about hiding any of the others. Did we get it all?”

“I have no idea,” Natasha admits, “but we can’t go out the way we came, there has to be –” she’s cut off by the sound of gunshots coming from further down the hall.

“They’re shooting their own people?” Clint asks incredulously.

“Would that really surprise you at this point?” Natasha grits out, taking off at a sprint, Clint and Steve at her heels. “No, I think they’re cutting their losses. If it’s not people, its equipment, but if they had any live test subjects –”

“They’d want to dispose of any evidence,” Steve surmises as they come to the door the shots were fired from. He shoulders through the door with his shield at the front, deflecting any bullets, and lets Clint and Natasha take care of the hostiles.

“Holy shit” “ _Bozhe moi_ ” Their twin exclamations have him lowering his shield and looking around the room; it’s set up like a nursery, with three cots and a large playpen. There’s a rocking chair in the corner with a young woman, visibly pregnant, slumped motionless, blood trailing from a bullet hole in her forehead. The three of them stand there, shocked, before the sounds of shouting from down the hall snap them back to reality and has them running back out into the hallway, where more HYDRA agents are waiting.

 _“Guys, you got company outside_ ,” Sam announces over the comms, “ _and they don’t look friendly!”_

“Can you handle it?” Natasha asks, pausing to ascertain exactly which door the shouting is coming from; it’s muffled and distorted.

“ _For a little while, probably_.”

“Then do so!” Natasha orders, finally picking a door and kicking it open just as a man in a lab coat shoots a woman in-between her shoulder blades. Natasha returns the favor by shooting him in the shoulder and in the knee, making him drop his weapon as Clint and Steve crowd in the doorway behind her.

“You’re too late,” the scientist announces, “The building has already been set to self-destruct. Cut off one head –” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence; Natasha places another bullet neatly between his eyes as Clint steps past her to take the woman’s pulse. He shakes his head and Steve lets out a heavy breath.

“Let’s get out of here,” Clint offers, standing up and walking back to the doorway, “you heard him: the place is set to blow.” Natasha nods in agreement and turns to leave, but pauses at the doorway.

“Do you hear that?” she asks, turning back to the woman.

“Nat, I can’t hear a damn thing over those damn alarms,” Clint admits. Steve frowns, but when he strains to hear past the klaxons he can hear what sounds to him like crying. Natasha shifts the woman’s body, rolling her over and to the side to reveal a small girl with dark brown hair, her baby onesie soaked with the woman’s blood. Her cries grow louder at the sight of Natasha, and she reaches out for the red-head with grasping hands. Natasha holsters one of her guns and lifts the child up with one arm; she can’t be more than a year old.

“She was protecting her,” Clint realizes, referring to the woman on the floor.

“Let’s not dishonor her sacrifice,” Natasha states bluntly, “let’s get the hell out of here.” Clint and Steve nod in agreement, and Clint leads the way out with Steve at the rear, placing Natasha and the still-sobbing child in the middle as they follow the flashing red lights to the hidden exit.

They exit the building moments before it goes up in flames and smoke, and Steve instinctively lunges to cover both Natasha and the child with his shield to protect them from any shrapnel. All of them stand up slowly, standing and staring at the flickering flames until Sam lands behind them. Natasha holsters her second weapon, gripping the child more firmly and rubbing soothing circles on her back in an attempt to keep her from hyperventilating.

“Uh, guys?” Sam asks, “Where’d you get a toddler?”

“They were testing on children,” Natasha replies numbly before turning and walking in the direction of the vehicle the men had driven from the airfield they had landed in. “Let’s get back to the jet; I want a good look at those files.”

~*~

“ _Excuse me_?!” Steve splutters; Natasha takes his distraction as a chance to set the now-clean toddler in his lap. He automatically wraps both hands around the child to ensure she won’t fall off his lap.

“Congratulations Cap, you’re a father,” Tony states.

“But…but I never…and Bucky never…how in the hell is that possible?!” the small girl begins to whimper and Natasha glares at Steve, who starts bouncing his knee softly to quiet her down.

“Well, obviously there was a woman involved,” Tony elaborates, “probably artificial insemination. The point is, according to the files gathered by you and the lovely Agent Romanoff –”

“ _Former_ Agent Romanoff,” Tony ignores her.

“– HYDRA was trying to clone not only you, but also your buddy Barnes, referred to only as The Asset. So some overly ambitious scientist thought, ‘hey! Let’s try cloning them _together_ ’ and somehow ended up fusing your DNA together.” Steve stares at him openmouthed for a good minute or two.

“Stark, did you just break Captain America?” Clint asks amusedly.

“I don’t know, do I get an award for that?” Natasha smacks him in the back of the head. Steve closes his mouth and looks down at the small child babbling quietly on his lap. She’s the spitting image of Bucky, with his dark eyes and dark hair and bowtie lips.

“How old is she?” he finally manages to ask.

“18 months,” Natasha answers.

“And does she – did they give her a name?”

“Just a number; did you have something in mind?” she asks gently, “I have contacts who can put together an official birth certificate and have it filed somewhere safe.”

“Rebecca,” he answers almost immediately, a little surprised at how certain he sounds. “Rebecca Sarah.” Natasha smiles.

~*~

Natasha and Sam invite themselves shopping with him, seeing as the only thing they have for Rebecca is the onesie they found her in, now-pink since the blood didn’t wash out completely. Steve stops at the first Walmart they find and purchases the first non-offensive onesie he sees to put Rebecca in so he can discard the one HYDRA had put her in. Once the baby is dressed and comfortable, Natasha spreads the blanket they had filched from the communal Avengers lounge in the child seat and settles her into the shopping cart for what is sure to be a lengthy trip. Sam immediately heads over to the diapers.

“Do we know how sensitive her skin is?” he asks.

“There was nothing in her records that I could see,” Natasha answers from where she’s inspecting car-seat safety ratings on her phone.

“I was sick a lot as a kid,” Steve inputs.

“Right, better safe than sorry,” Sam decides, pulling a few packages of diapers off of the shelf and setting them in the cart. “This is the brand my sister buys. I think these are what my ma bought too.” Rebecca’s head snaps up from the toy Steve had handed her at Sam’s words.

“Mama?” she babbles, looking around.

“Oh boy,” Sam sighs as Rebecca’s face falls, her lower lip trembling.

“Mama?” her voice wavers and her eyes water and then she’s crying again. “Mama!”

“Sh, Rebecca, no,” Steve tries to soothe her, lifting her out of the cart and holding her against one shoulder, “Come on Becca, it’s okay, you’re okay.” A few other shoppers give him sympathetic looks as they pass.

“Separation anxiety, huh?” a kind, tired-looking woman asks to Steve’s right.

“Uh, something like that?” he replies nervously as Natasha walks over, depositing a car-seat into the cart.

“Her mother passed away fairly recently,” she explains to the stranger, reaching over to take Rebecca from Steve and shooing him off to look at cribs, “She hasn’t had enough time to adjust, I think.”

“Oh poor thing,” he hears the woman lament as Natasha somehow gets Rebecca to stop crying. Sam is studying the cribs intently when Steve walks over.

“This one,” he points out. “It’s sturdy, plus it’s convertible, so you won’t have to get another one for a while as she starts getting bigger.” Steve nods, pulling the bulky box off of the shelf and setting it into the second shopping cart Sam had grabbed on the way in. Natasha rejoins them near the clothes, jars of formula and baby food, empty baby bottles, a half a dozen sippy cups, and a dozen toys having joined the diapers, car seat, and baby wipes and powder in the cart.

“No Avengers merchandise,” she states, taking a hanger out of Sam’s hands and replacing it on the rack.

“But –” he tries to protest.

“No,” she repeats, handing Rebecca over to Steve. “Let’s get out of here before somebody recognizes us. We can get anything else nonessential later.”

~*~

By the time they get back to Steve’s apartment, Rebecca is wailing again, and none of them can get her to stop crying. Her diaper is clean and she’s refused a bottle three times.

“I don’t get it,” Steve sighs, exasperated, pacing his living room with Rebecca on his shoulder while Sam puts together the crib and Natasha unpacks the rest of their groceries, “what else do babies need?”

“Sleep?” Natasha suggests. “She’s probably tired.”

“Wait, you said she’s past 12 months, right?” Sam asks, screwing the last leg together before they move on to the bottom of the frame.

“Right,” Natasha confirms.

“She might be teething.”

“How do you tell?” Steve asks.

“Stick a finger in her mouth,” Steve looks at him like he’s crazy but does as he’s told and feels a couple of hard bits in the baby’s gum.

“Now what?”

“Got anything cold in your fridge?”

~*~

Natasha goes looking for Steve once Sam’s finished making up the baby’s bed. Rebecca had finally stopped crying a few minutes ago, much to everyone’s relief.

“Steve?” she calls out softly, pushing open the door to the master bedroom. She pauses at the sight that greets her: Steve is sprawled out on the bed, both hands resting on Rebecca’s back, who is curled up in the center of his chest, a popsicle melting on his shirt near the baby’s mouth. Natasha leans against the doorframe, smiling indulgently at the sight for a moment before snapping a picture with her phone and backing away and closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s somewhere in England. He’s not sure of his exact location, somewhere in the country, somewhere isolated. His intelligence is good; he’s watched six HYDRA agents enter the facility in the last hour alone. It doesn’t take long to figure out their security patrols and he manages to sneak in undetected with no problems at all. He ghosts through the halls, heading towards the command center, where not only the bulk of information is stored, but also where the self-destruct panel is.

He’s nearly there when he hears a sound. It’s a familiar sound, one he’s used to hearing in cities and towns and villages; a sound that is utterly out-of-place in a HYDRA facility. He pauses, trying to discern exactly where the sound is coming from, and finds himself drawn to a door a little ways back the way that he came. In the room, a young woman in a lab coat is sitting at a desk typing on a computer. Also in the room is a crib housing the source of the sound he had heard: an infant lying on his back, fine blonde hair coating his head. He is suddenly very angry. He must have made some sort of noise, because the woman turns, eyes going wide and hands scrambling for something beneath her desk. He shoots her in the head and removes her from her chair, going through all of the files on her computer.

It does nothing to soothe his anger, and once he’s finished he finds he has made a decision. He stands up, carefully reaches into the crib and gently lifts the infant out of it. He carries the boy from the facility minutes before it explodes into nothingness.

~*~

“This was sloppy work,” Natasha observes, “There was absolutely no care taken to ensure that there were no survivors.”

“ _You think he’s breaking down?”_ Steve asks over the comm line.

“I’m not sure what to think. At this point the only thing we can do is question civilians. I’ll meet you back at the hotel in the village and we’ll go from there.”

The hotel in the village is only two stories tall and looks very old but very well cared for. Steve is waiting for her in the lobby already in civvies.

“Booked us a room for the night,” he explains at the eyebrow tilt she gives him.

“Sure you can stand being away from Becca for that long?” she teases.

“I think I can handle it. Besides, she’s got three very capable babysitters.” She scoffs a laugh at him; over the past two years he’s gotten a lot less paranoid about leaving Rebecca behind on missions, even if he is leaving her in the tower with all of Stark’s security. But at three and a half years-old, Rebecca was more than a handful.

“You know we’re a few days behind already, right?” Natasha cautions him as they make their way down the main street. “A facility in such an isolated area, we’re lucky the fire didn’t turn into something more serious.”

“I know, Natasha, but we have to try.” She nods at him and the two step into the first open shop they find: a small clothing boutique run by a young woman and her elderly mother.

“He looks vaguely familiar,” she answers after being shown an admittedly blurry photo of Bucky. “You know, you may want to check with Mr. Taylor down the street; he runs the toy shop.”

“We’ll do that, thank you,” Natasha promises, sliding the photograph off of the glass countertop and leading the way outside.

“Three years,” Steve murmurs in disbelief, “almost three years of nothing and we find him in a village in the middle of nowhere?”

“It may be nothing,” Natasha cautions as Steve holds open the door to the toy shop for her. “Mr. Taylor?” she inquires of the older man standing at the counter adjusting the display.

“Yes?” he greets. Steve holds out the picture.

“Sir, we’re looking for this man; we were told you may be the person to ask,” he explained hopefully.

“I recognize him, sure. He was in a couple of days ago. I think he got a room at the hotel up the street,” the man informs them. Steve and Natasha stare at each other in shock for a moment before they run out of the shop, shouting back a hasty thank you.

“Right under our goddamn noses,” Natasha swears as they head back down the main street. They corner the clerk at the front desk and shove the photo under his nose. Natasha fabricates a story about concerned family worried for his health and the man immediately gives them a room number on the second floor. Natasha hands him one of her guns when they reach the door and he frowns at her but takes the weapon as she picks the lock quickly, quietly, and efficiently. The door swings open slowly and they make their way inside. The room is empty. The sheets look mussed and there are traces of gun oil on the small table in the corner, but other than that there’s absolutely no trace that Bucky was ever there. Natasha wanders into the bathroom while Steve takes a closer look at the rest of the room, and comes out holding a battered baby onesie.

“What does that mean?” he asks, handing her back her gun.

“I have no idea,” she admits.

~*~

Rebecca is in the living room, singing along nonsensically with the Little Einsteins when Sam walks in. Natasha waves in greeting from where she is sitting in the corner chair, one eye on Rebecca, the other on her book.

“Hey Nat,” he greets, “Steve, you need to see this.” Sam sounds so intense that Steve stops in the middle of loading the dishwasher with the breakfast plates and turns to face his friend. “It’s about Bucky.”

“Go ahead,” Natasha tells him; it’s been nine months since their miss in the hotel room, “I’ve got Becca.” He thanks her profusely, dropping a kiss on Rebecca’s head before practically sprinting out the door after Sam, grabbing his coat almost as an afterthought.

“One of my vets came to me last night, all concerned about this kid she had seen at this shelter she volunteers at,” Sam explains as they push their way through the crowded Brooklyn streets. “Said he has a parent or guardian, but they look like a vet and look like they aren’t doin’ too well. I told her I’d check it out this morning. So I went to take a look and talk to whoever runs the shelter.” Sam finishes his explanation as they reach the family shelter in question and leads Steve through the building to a small room in the very back. Sam pushes open the door and Steve inhales sharply. Lying on the mattress on the floor is Bucky, the thin blanket tucked securely around a small blonde little boy sleeping deeply curled close to him.

Bucky’s eyes snap open as the door creaks open, and he sits up straight, tense and ready for an attack, his dog tags hanging from around his neck. He looks tired and weary, and all of the fight drains out of him as his eyes alight on Steve.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve breathes as Sam steps back.

“Hey Stevie.”


	3. Epilogue

“Baby up!” Rebecca yells over Joseph’s crying. Bucky groans and attempts to burrow deeper into Steve’s chest.

“He’s probably hungry,” Steve drawls, voice still heavy with sleep; he’d gotten in very early this morning from his last assignment.

“I was up at two for the diaper change,” Bucky states, words muffled by Steve’s chest.

“Men,” Natasha huffs, reluctantly rolling out from underneath Steve’s arm and sitting up, “I’ll get him.” She slides her feet into her slippers just as the door to the bedroom swings open to reveal Rebecca. She scampers across the room and jumps onto the bed, Natasha immediately placing a hand at her back to keep her from falling as she crawls across to Steve and Bucky.

“Papa, Daddy, Joseph is crying,” she pouts.

“Mama’s taking care of Joseph,” Steve reassures her as Bucky rolls onto his back, pulling Rebecca in-between them just as Joseph’s cries quiet into fussy noises. Natasha returns a moment later with the one-year-old in her arms gnawing happily on a teething ring.

“I never could figure out why you bothered to keep these after Rebecca stopped needing them,” she mused, settling back onto the bed with her back against the headboard.

“They work pretty well on bruises,” Steve tells her, “but mostly I just never got around to getting rid of them.” Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

“Papa,” Rebecca whispers loudly, making Bucky crack open one eye.

“Yes beautiful?”

“It’s Saturday,” she informs him, wiggling excitedly.

“So it is,” he answers, opening both eyes and smiling indulgently. “Why don’t you see if Mama will help you put on the television and I’ll be out to make you breakfast?” Rebecca looks at Natasha hopefully and the red-head nods, following the little girl out of the room.

“You know you spoil her,” Steve sighs as Bucky sits up.

“I’m sure you did that enough for the both of us before I moved in,” Bucky teases, “go back to sleep punk, I’ll save you some pancakes for later.” Steve smiles into the pillow as Bucky plants a kiss on top of his head and leaves the room; he drifts to sleep listening to the sound of Bucky rattling around in the kitchen while Rebecca babbles to Natasha in the living room and can’t help thinking how damn lucky he is.


End file.
